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“THE VICTOR’S CROWN OF GOLD.”
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“Let us hope so,” answered Bessie; “but that is something hidden beyond our sight. As long as we can, my boys, we will try to be together, here or somewhere else, on the last night of every year.”

For some unexplained reason, Rob looked very wicked during the latter half of his cousin’s speech; but no one noticed it, for Ted inquired just then,—

“What are you lads going to be when you grow up?”

“My father says I’ve got to be a doctor,” remarked Bert ruefully, “but I’d much rather go West on a cattle ranch, or else be an architect. What shall you do. Bob?”

“Bugs and things,” answered Rob briefly.

“Ted?”

“I don’t know. Civil engineer, that is, if father can send me through college. That’s what I’d like best.”

“Phil?”

“A minister, I s’pose,” groaned Phil. “That’s the family plan, but I don’t think I’m much suited for it.”

“Think of the ugly duckling, and have courage,” suggested Rob consolingly.